


Tipping the Silk

by SyFoLaVe (orphan_account)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/F, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SyFoLaVe
Summary: If you want to talk with me about this fic, you can send me an ask on myTumblranytime!
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/Reader, Sadie Adler/Abigail Roberts Marston, Sadie Adler/Reader, Sadie Adler/Reader/Abigail Roberts Marston
Comments: 2
Kudos: 105





	1. "... And let there be light."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to talk with me about this fic, you can send me an ask on my [ Tumblr](https://johnnymarsty.tumblr.com/) anytime!

Was God listening?

If anyone could explain to you the meaning of love, he was the only one.

You sat on the corner of the abandoned house, trying not to see the bloody scars and dried tears. The house wasn't so noisy, and it was filled with cries and inaudible words, but you decided to recall the time when you were by her side. There was no one there to call it pathetic.

Your hand brushed past her cheek, leaving a mark no one could see.

There was an indescribable feeling between this relationship which neither you nor she could talk about carelessly. It was her job to get into the sheets with men, and you perfectly understood that. But she always came to you after everything was over, after sunrise. She leaned her head against your shoulder. It was nothing but pureness between one woman and another.

You paused your recollection, shivering at the bitter cold of the abandoned mining town. But it wasn't over and rather you got deeper into it.

The touch of her hand caressed against yours, and you both smiled. She wasn't perfect, but she filled the empty space next to you perfectly. You slowly soaked into it without knowing it was love.

And, or however, one more thing you had to understand here was the fact that you weren't the only one who had feelings for her.  He wandered around her tent day after day, trying to catch the glimpse of her. He put her thin, pretty hand to his lips where he confessed his love. You saw it all, but there was nothing you could say here. They disappeared behind the tent, and the lights went out.

Her menstruation stopped. She no longer had her hair down and began to wear a skirt long enough to hide her feet. She no longer held your hand. Bitterness wetted your tongue. Everything was a mistake.

Her stomach swelled day by day. He no longer kissed her. She wept in your arms and you couldn’t kiss her in the name of love anymore. Everything was a mistake.

There was the sound of a newborn crying out loud. The baby boy was wrapped in a white cloth. She named him Jack. A month later, her "lover" ran away at dawn. Nevertheless, her last name wasn’t Marston after all of it happened.

You were there for her, holding her and drying her tears. That night she led you behind the tent she once used to be with him. Her fingers and yours tangled again. The sweetness on your lips and her little smile was all you remembered. That one year was near eternity.

One year. He didn’t disappear for good. You heard the sound of hooves at dawn and saw his face.

Your daydream cut off. The cry and the rustling of the clothes began to ring in your ears again. You looked up, and there were two women sitting in front of you. Mrs. Adler, and her. The wife was constantly crying from the moment the men had rescued her, and Abigail was comforting her like a lovely woman she was. Soon she got up from her seat and walked up to you.

“Hey,” She opened her mouth, holding your hand. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Go ahead.” You answered, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

“Can you look after Mrs. Adler? I got to keep an eye on John. You know, he’s in a bad condition…” She slurred her words at the end.

“Sure.” You said, replacing her seat beside Mrs. Adler. Abigail walked out of the house, and the woman next to you glanced at you with red, puffy eyes. Comforting a person wasn’t your best strength, but you patted her on the back as Abigail did. A cry broke out, the blond hair covered her face.

“It’s alright,” You whispered. “Have a good cry. It’s alright.” 

She buried her face in her hands as you said it. She was falling apart and all you could do here was hold her hand as you did with Abigail. Mrs. Adler wasn't her, but by doing so you wanted her to calm down as soon as possible. After all, this was better than drowning in memories of the past. As your fingers brushed past her hair, she raised her head and looked at you. You answered her soundless question by wiping away her tear-stained cheeks with warm fingers.

“Everything’s going to be alright.” You assured.


	2. "Do you see the fire in your eyes?"

It was time to go. There was no lingering regret for you here.

People loaded camp supplies into the carriage. The men found a place to use as a new camp, and you were getting ready to move there. There you’d able to see a real town where people roam around, not an abandoned village piled up in the snow. You breathed into the cold hands covered in gloves, staring at Abigail and her… love. John was covered with wounds from a pack of wolves, and beside him was her.

Did you expect her to be next to you?

You took your eyes off them and got into the carriage with a slight rattle. It soon began to move, and the sky began to brighten as it went along the road. Valentine. You rolled the word in your mouth. It was a small livestock village in Heartland where conmen and drunkards and working girls could be commonly seen. You didn't care and rather thought it was a perfect town for all of you.

Sadie, meanwhile, was crying in the corner of the carriage. You couldn't leave her alone like that, so during this journey, you've constantly calmed her down and comforted her. If Abigail had seen this, she would certainly have praised you.

As the carriage left the Grizzlies completely, a cloudless, clean sky unfolded before you. The scent of fields and purity tickled your nose. The closer you got to the place for your new camp, the stronger you could smell it. And finally, you arrived.

People unpacked the supplies and set up the camp. Horseshoe Overlook. There came peace. You went to Abigail before you could fully enjoy this moment.

“Abby.” You called her who was having a coffee and stood beside her.

“Hello.” She looked back at you, and you dawdled for no reason under the weight of her blue eyes shining in the sun. You poured coffee into an old cup and took a sip.

“Um…,” You were so close to her, and yet you had nothing to say. After mumbling, you finally asked her something you didn't want to ask.

“How’s… Is John alright?” You cursed yourself inside, but you kept a straight face. You only asked that because he was the sweetheart of Abigail, not because you particularly cared about him. That was the truth.

“Well, yeah. We stitched him up, now he’s going to be okay.” She looked into the cup, staring at the steam rising to her face. You tried to go somewhere to hide the awkwardness, but she grabbed your fingers.

“Take good care of Mrs. Adler. She looked… painful.” And she let go. Abigail seemed to have something more to say, but she closed her mouth like that.

She was sitting on a rock crying. You gently sat next to her with two cups of coffee, handing one to her. She looked up at you as her fingers and yours brushed against each other. Then she drank a sip of coffee and opened her mouth with a sad smile.

“Didn’t expect you to care about me this much.”

After hearing her words you took her hand once again as you did in Colter, and it was warm enough to make you want to keep a hold on.

“I really care about you, Mrs…” You said, looking deep into her eyes.

“Sadie.” She corrected you before you could finish the sentence. Sadie turned to you, revealing her freckled cheeks. Seeing her face like this; you wished that the warmth here would set her mind at rest. But at the same time, grief wasn’t the only thing in her eyes. There was determination or spite or venom, something intense. And watching it burn didn’t make you uncomfortable, it rather made you fascinated. Time passed with you two holding hands.

Then a disturbing voice came from somewhere.

“... Just let me rest in the sun. It’s good for me.” John’s voice.

He was already arguing with Abigail. 

They were always like this. You seemed to have forgotten it for a moment. From the moment John ran away and came back, you forgot that they were always like this…

“Only talking ain’t so good for me.” He mumbled.

Bloody scars and raven hairs wandered on your memory. It has already been five years since they've been together. You tried to ignore his hushed, husky voice ringing in your head, but the results were always the same.

"Ain’t you just lovely." His words blushed her cheeks.

And it was you who watched it all. All that remained after getting out of those sweet sentences was raw laziness and the absence of responsibility.

“You silly little man!” She shouted and you could see her coming this way.

The night they slept for the first time, you saw the red marks on her neck the next day. And you thought until then he was just a customer. When the smell of tobacco which was supposed to come from him alone, began to come from her clothes, you finally noticed it all. John loved Abigail. You remembered John buttoning up his underwear, Abigail pulling up the shoulders of the dress and coming out of the tent.

“Whatever you say!” And you heard him jeering.

Raw laziness and the absence of responsibility. Their love was no longer beautiful, affectionate, or pure.

“What a silly man,” complained Abigail. She was already beside you, letting off the steam but she didn’t stay for so long. You wanted to reach out and say something warm to her, but you weren't the one who could cut in on their relationship. You weren’t, no. So you had to watch them from afar. It was painful.

You felt Susan's stinging gaze, so you asked Sadie to excuse you and got up from your seat. But instead of going to your tent, you approached John, who was sitting on the tree stump and reading a book. Just to check on him.

“Hello, John.” You greeted him, but it didn’t sound so friendly.

“Huh?” A voice filled with irritation scratched your eardrum. He looked up at you with a grimace. You wanted to say something, but you decided to keep that to yourself since provoking John was the last thing you’d want to do. Taking a quick step, and you got to where the other women were. Picking up today's chores, you got lost in thought. Your fingers moved slowly.

Did they really love each other? You were falling into denial again.

But you could be the only one who thinks so. It could be because you didn't know John.

The sun gradually went down. The freezing wind blew on the hill, and you shivered lightly. You looked back in the hand that touched your shoulder, and then there was Abigail. With a small smile on her face. At least she wasn’t mad anymore.

“Hi, there.” You greeted her. Seeing her smile made you do the same.

“Can I take it over? You looked cold. Get some rest around the fire.” She kindly suggested. You tried to refuse, but you eventually got up because she pushed your back out. You sat around the campfire after sauntering. Next to you was John with a bottle of beer, and he looked you sideways then asked.

“Hey. How’s... uh, Abigail?” And that was a question you didn't even think of. He must have thought you would know because you were always by her side.

“She’s… Abigail.” You said, looking down at the ground then the fire. You couldn't look at his face with the sudden complication in your head. You could only hear the silence and the sound of the firewoods burning, feeling John’s gaze from behind.

The discomfort enveloped you, reminding you of his and Abigail’s past scenes. When you got up from your seat and stumbled into the tent, he was no longer looking at you.


	3. "...And you cried some of the hottest tears you ever cried."

\- "One Point Perspective"

* * *

Have you ever wondered why people drink?

The camp was festive. Festive enough to make your head ache. The Irish boy was back. He returned to the cheers of the people, and went up on the table with a bottle of liquor in his hand and spewed out a stream of silly words. The silver moon rose in the night sky, and the celebration was beginning.

“I love you bastards!” Sean chirped as he got off from the table. The ladies cheered loudly at the end of his words. Javier's guitar and Uncle's banjo began to play. However, you…

You were as messed up as usual. There were a lot of useless thoughts inside your head, and even today you weren't able to shake them off. Sitting quietly, you turned to the box full of liquors. They were packed tightly in the box as if they were tempting you. You didn't usually like alcohol, but today you needed something to make your mind go blank. So you opened the lid of the beer bottle and pushed the piquant liquid down to your stomach. The feeling of it going down your throat and burning your stomach was quite thrilling, much more than you ever imagined.

So you were sitting alone in a place where there no one was, with a bottle in your hand. But it wasn't lonely. You couldn’t be disturbed because you were alone.

“Pathetic!” Abigail scolded John who was giggling with Bill. You looked at them, drinking slowly. Everyone had their own problems. Sean and Karen, who had been staring at each other since earlier, disappeared into John's tent. Someone was experimenting with love. They were done in no time. You didn't know if they were satisfied. Sadie was already lying down in her sleeping bag. Did she drink, too?

“You alright?” Charles who was passing by asked you, and you nodded meaninglessly a couple of times.

The next thing that caught your eye was Abigail, again. Cleaning John's tent with a broom, completely alone. You, who was observing her, rose impulsively from your seat and approached her. Guess it was time to do something you’d regret. In an instant, you were in the same space as her, and she stopped the broom and looked at you.

“Abi-Abigail.” You stuttered over the simple word. This was the first time you had come into John's tent on your own.

“You’re… drunk.”

“Can I, just, be with you for a minute? Abby?” You asked, taking her hand. She looked at your wobbly eyes and slightly opened her lips as if to say something. Her figure waved in front of your eyes, making you choke up.

Were you crying?

“Sure, but…” Your hand went down to her waist and pulled her into you. The gesture contained a sense of desperation that even you didn't know. You could have hugged her, but you hesitated for some reason. Then you heard the uneven footsteps of someone walking into the tent.

“Hey!” And the sound of someone squealing out loud. It was a familiar voice, and it made you recognize reality.

“Hi, sweetheart! And… you.” John fell down on the bed, slightly bumping into your shoulder. It was rather fortunate that he was drunk and didn't notice your red eyes. You ran out of the tent pretending to ignore her calling your name. She didn’t catch your arms or made you turn back.

Her voice rang in your ears as soon as you reached the cliff with the scenery in front of you. Tears didn’t flow down your cheeks, but the eyes were hotter than ever. You always turned emotional when you got drunk. You reiterated to yourself that the reason you’re crying is not because of Abigail, but because of the tipsiness. But even you knew it was just an excuse. An excuse not to… get hurt.

You curled up and the wind swirled past your face. Gut-wrenching. That was what you were feeling.

Another day was passing by, leaving you bruised.

* * *

And the blackout.

The first thing you did when you woke up was to rub your temples. The splitting headache and nausea engulfed you, making you frown. You looked around, and the world was already hotter and warmer than usual. The sun was high in the sky as if it was mocking your drunken face.

Abigail.

Funnily enough, it was she that came to your mind as soon as your thinking ability came around again. With blurry memories pounding and squeezing your head, you tried to evoke what happened the last night, but only thunder broke in your head. You only remembered you were in the tent with Abigail, but the memory of exactly what you did with her has seemed to be swept away. You touched your dry lips as if they would remind you of something, and of course, you felt nothing. Then someone came up to you, who was sitting so lost in thought, and it was Sadie.

“Seems like you drank a lot.” She smiled softly, giving you a cup full of coffee. You took a sip carefully, and the coffee left a thick flavor in your throat, calming you down. 

“I did.” 

“Well, it’s already afternoon, and… this place is already up and running.” You smiled slightly at her words, but as soon as you saw the person coming from behind her, it died down.

“Sadie,” tied up black hair and blue eyes. “Mind if I talk to her for a second?” Abigail looked worried about something which you already knew what it was about. Sadie got up from her seat and walked away, and Abigail sat in front of you. After fiddling with her fingers and looking down at her toes, she finally opened her mouth.

“You know… about the thing last night.” Her voice trembled, but it was hardly noticeable. Her words made your brain work to find hidden memories but it wasn’t enough. Before you remembered to pretend to be tired or completely blacked out, you were already getting ready to tell the truth.

“I don’t…” You said, dragging your word. “I wouldn’t say anything, but I don’t remember half of what happened. Abigail.” And the look on her face became even more complicated.

“I’m sorry.” You got up from your seat ignoring the fact that you may have hurt her. Where you went was the place next to Sadie.

“Hey.” She cheerfully greeted you as you sat down next to her. Relieved that she wasn’t crying anymore, but feeling guilty about what just happened, you greeted back in an exhausted voice.

“What happened back there? She seemed… awful.” She asked. You lowered your head, then raised it again.

“I did dumb things. Real dumb things last night and I couldn’t remember anything. Not actually anything, but…” and this would have been, what, a confession time if Sadie hadn't stopped you. “Alright, I’d settle for that. I ain’t judging you.”

You let out a cigarette smoke while looking at the cloud moving in the night sky. You didn't know, but it was the same place you came the night before. Looking at the clouds and thinking about past life, by far as you knew, wasn’t smart or entertaining deed but for now, you had no choice. The murky smoke was polluting the view ahead. The camp was dark as some of the lamps were turned off. Then there were footsteps behind you, and you were already expecting who it was. You put out the cigarette with the heel of your boot.

“Abigail.”

“You know.” She stood beside you and dragged her feet. The ensuing silence was rather awkward, followed by the sound of the wind blowing. Then Abigail gently made you turn your body towards her, taking both of your hands. Her hands were soft and warm, as always. Her figure was reflecting in your eyes. Your name flew out from her lips and your body got closer to hers. You pulled your arms - which was hugging around her waist - to yourself and you could hear the little breath in your ear.

“If you didn’t lie to me,” Once again, your name. “Don’t you wanna know what you did last night?”


	4. "Grief isn't the right feeling for you."

Soft sunlight shone on the ground, waking everyone up. The grass spread out on the hill looked nearly golden, and the birds chirped as if they were welcoming the morning. Abigail was sitting next to you with a coffee in her hand, smiling peacefully.

“Mornin’.” She said, clearing away the hair covering your face. It was nice to feel the warm fingers brushing against your cheeks. You raised yourself from the cot, feeling her gaze.

“You sleep well last night?” Her eyes were full of tenderness as she asked so, and you nodded. The mere sight of her face reminded you of what happened last night, making you share the smile with her. If you hadn't seen John strolling from behind Abigail, the reminiscence would have continued.

“Hey,” John opened his mouth, irritated voice coming out of it. “Where’s the kid?”

“He’s out fishing with Arthur,” said Abigail in a stiffened voice, turning to him and you could see John frowning.

“So you now don’t even care about me, Abigail?” John raised his voice in protest, and Abigail stood up from the bedroll with a deep sigh. So did you, to keep your distance from them.

“It ain’t like that, John…” Getting up from your seat and walking to the edge of the camp, you could feel Abigail staring at you.

The sound of their violent words rang beside your ears as you stroked the mane of your horse. There was no sign of an end to their argument, which seemed to have not even a grain of respect. You could hear everything even though you were standing quite apart from them and it made you want to plug your ears completely. The horse made a little sound as the comb brushed past her neck. It was just devastating that all you could do here was just hope this all ends quickly.

The couple’s quarrel which seemed to last forever finally ended and Abigail walked toward you, sighing harshly and pressing her hand to the forehead.

“You alright?” You asked carefully, and she sighed a few times before answering with obvious resent on her voice. “Yeah...yeah. I’m alright. I’m just…” and the sniffings. You could tell that she was half crying even if you didn’t take a closer look at her eyes.

“I’m alright. I just need time alone.” Her words quickened and trembled at the same time. Before you could grab her shoulder and stop her, Abigail disappeared into the tent with heavy footsteps. And you respected what she just had said. You had to. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t comfort her.

* * *

The image of Abigail waved before your eyes when you stepped into the village. Her sorrowful voice seemed to have no intention of leaving your ears and that was what brought you here. Chocolates. Chocolates and… You whispered to yourself, hitching the horse in front of the general store. The one that Abigail liked.

The owner greeted you shortly as you stepped into the store. You never intended to stay here too long, so you tried to pay for the chocolates in your hand and leave this place immediately. But as you were walking to the counter, something came into the sight. A crudely made bunny shaped doll. It was obvious that it’d been sitting on the shelf for a long time. You dusted and grabbed it without knowing the particular reason. But it was certain that it would soon be in Jack's arms.

The road back to camp felt long but you didn’t want to rush the steps. Feeling the wind blowing toward you, you wondered for a moment what Abigail would be like now. You wondered if she’d stopped crying or if her cheeks got completely wet with tears. You wondered if she’s regretting not pulling you into her arms or if she still wanted to sit alone by herself. Continuing on such a thoughtless, simultaneously thought-filled journey, you soon arrived at Horseshoe Overlook. You walked toward Abigail's tent with the things hidden behind your back that you’d taken out of the saddlebag, and you could see Sadie smiling at you.

“That’s cute.” She commented while passing by in a voice filled with adoration, and you gave her a hint of a smile.

Abigail was sitting in a chair sewing, fingers occasionally wiping off her eyes, and you stood in front of her, hoping she would recognize your presence. But she seemed quite distracted by the stitching, so you cleared your throat, finally getting her to see you. That’s when you finally could see her red eyes.

Abigail put down the needlework as soon as she saw you, calling your name softly. You saw it clearly now. Red eyes and bitten lips, slightly disheveled hair. When you looked at her without saying a word, she hurriedly tucked her baby hair behind her ears.

“How do you feel now?” you asked, feeling the texture of a cloth and chocolate package on your finger.

“I’m...fine,” Abigail mumbled, dropping her gaze to your feet. But you don’t look fine. You pressed down the urge to say so and instead stuck out your hand full of chocolates.

“That’s…” she held the sweets with a voice and look full of surprises. “so sweet.” and soon after you showed her the small, shabby doll, a low exclamation came out from her.

“I don’t know if he likes bunnies, but…” you said, chuckling a bit at her reaction.

“Thank you… You didn’t have to. Uhm, how much was it?” when Abigail's hand reached to her coat pocket, you stopped her. And quickly added. “I bought it for you. For Jack.”

Abigail smiled, fiddling with the doll's droopy ears. It seemed like she could already see Jack playing with it. “It’s so pretty. Thank you, really.” she once again thanked you, and gently placed the doll on Jack’s bedroll. You nodded and headed to your caravan.

The chores that had to be done were still there but you weren’t in the right mood for them. So you sat on edge of the cot and lit up a cigarette. The smile of Abigail hovered before your eyes, leaving an aftertaste. Sweet and bitter at the same time. This is what John had to do, not you. Comforting Abigail and buying a gift for her son. But he was nowhere to be seen, so you were filling his void once again, being a substitute.

You blew out the smoke with your eyes closed, and suddenly you could feel the presence of someone next to you.

“Hi,” Sadie greeted you with a light smile on her face. “Mind if I sit here? I could use some company.”

You let her sit next to you, and she stared at you smoking for a while. Then let out a small, hearty laugh. “Damn. I wanna smoke one. Haven’t done that in a while.” 

You took the cigarette case out of your pocket and checked for anything left, but the last one you had was in between your lips. You showed her the empty pack and mumbled “Sorry.” but Sadie wasn’t disappointed at all. The corners of her lips turned upwards, making a mischievous smile. “I see you still got one left.”

How could you refuse her, then? Sucking in the last smoke, you gave the cigarette to Sadie. You blew out the smoke as soon as she accepted the cigarette. Sadie took a long pull on it and adjusted her body so she can sit closer to you. The cigarette was shared until it got put out by the heel of your boot. Both of you could have smoked longer if you hadn't heard the sound of hooves.

Arthur and Jack were back. Arthur's face was full of unknown anxiety, and Jack... He looked as innocent as ever, running to his mother.

“He’s gonna love the doll. I can already see it.” Sadie said, letting out a little chuckle.

* * *

Javier's voice melted into the guitar's melody. There was a small party going on around the campfire, but you weren't the kind of person to hang out with people. So today you were sitting on a rock on the edge of the camp, looking at the night sky. Then there was someone walking toward you from behind. A familiar figure stood beside you.

“Nice sky, ain’t it?” Hosea opened his mouth, studying the sky before him.

“It is.”

“The boy seems to like that doll. He’s been holding it all day.” he turned to you and smiled brightly. The melody of a popular song and loud voices singing along to it sounded like background noise. "I heard that from Abigail."

“That’s...nice.”

“Hey, look. Look.” Hosea’s voice got lower as he rested his hand on your shoulder. "I'm glad you're doing that for Jack. And for Abigail. John, he's…" his words got slurred at the end. "Well, I wouldn't call him an idiot, but… I just wish he'd man up and act like a father just for once. If he doesn't, then…"

A heavy silence ensued. He seemed to be looking for something to say next.

"Well, I think it’s going to be alright! I'm sure you can do his job just fine!" Hosea let out a laugh and patted you on the shoulder as if he was trying to enlighten the atmosphere. But you could see that he was faking the laugh, the high pitched voice.

You exhaled harshly to calm the beating heart down as soon as you heard what he just had said. Your mouth dried up. Hosea's words and John's quarrel struck you on the head. A familiar bitterness came up from the throat, wetting your tongue and all you could do here was look down at the ground. Before you could even refute Hosea, he was already walking to the other side of the camp, settling himself on the bedroll.


	5. "My darling, Abigail."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rewriting the last few chapters because I thought the first version of them was a hot mess.

Abigail Roberts was, without a doubt, a good-natured woman. She didn’t hesitate to reach out to those in need and knew how to return the love to those who loved her. She sympathized with the pain of a woman whose loved one was taken away by another and was gradually pulling her out of the abyss called depression in which she was trapped.

“Listen to me.”

She cleaned the wound, bandaged it, and whispered words of consolation. If the woman needed someone to be with, Abigail would always volunteer for her. She handed out her warmth to the ice-cold hands.

“Don’t none of you - never go do something stupid and get yourself a woman.”

Though she always enjoyed being good, that didn’t mean she was naive. She wasn’t, not at all. She’d come out into the dirty streets and saw with her own eyes how ruthless, cruel, and unforgiving the world was. Working as a prostitute at a young age had taught her something.

“And if you got one, get rid of ‘em!”

She once killed someone. He was a customer, he was horribly violent, and there was no consent from her to what he’d done. She grabbed the silver revolver used by her pander and pulled the trigger on him without a single hesitation. Blood spattered in the room, and the man's body disappeared over the door. She did it without shedding a single tear.

“Go drown them in the goddamn ocean because trust me boys, it’s you…or them.”

Abigail wasn’t wasteful with tears. Then she began to cry her heart out after she had the baby. The dry, cold eyes tore her apart. A few months later, when only she and the baby were left, her cheeks were completely wet with tears for the first time.

“They’ll slowly grind you down to dust with the nagging and the demands and the complaints!”

God only knew what failed love had done to her. The man she fell for gave her a cut instead of love. The hoarse voice and black hair ran through her head every night, every dawn.

“You’ll die the most painful death imaginable, and that’s this. The slow realization that you’d rather be dead than have to listen to her crap for a moment longer.”

So you were always there for her. You knew they were still one thing but you couldn’t just sit back and watch her get hurt. You sat next to her and listened to her troubles, thoughts, and worries. Because no one did it to her.

"And if you knew you could kill her and get away with it –"

If you knew you could still do it for her right now, if you knew you could grab her hand and take yourselves somewhere no one can hurt you –

“You would!”

You would.

* * *

Life persisted.

It continued even though the world had already crushed, wounded, and destroyed you. That’s the way it was.

Every day seemed slow and fast at the same time. Time seemed slow when the sun was orbiting just above people’s heads and locking them under the burning daylight, but it seemed too fast when you were looking at the golden sun gradually setting over the afternoon. The evening sun ran all over the sky like watercolor paint and the smell of stew spread throughout the camp. People were waiting to fill their stomachs, putting down their chores just for a moment.

John and Abigail were among them. John was resting in his tent bed after finishing his works and seemed unwilling to be disturbed. He stretched his legs and hit the spurs to the ground a few times, closing his eyes. His expression, which was so peaceful, changed when he opened his eyes and noticed who was walking into his tent. “Pa?”

He frowned at the fragile voice and looked down, not letting out any word. Jack looked around and pulled a bunny out of his back, lifting it up in the air as if he was trying to show off. “Look at my bunny!”

John sighed. He looked at Jack as if he were looking at someone else's child, and looked annoyed that his break time had been interrupted. Actually, he couldn’t just glare at Jack like this even though if he indeed belonged to some other parent, not him. The boy seemed embarrassed by the cold silence and came a few steps closer to John to show the doll in his hand again. “Do you know who bought this for me?”

John turned in his direction, trying not to frown more. Words filled with annoyance and fatigue broke out of his mouth. “Look, I...I...This ain’t the right time, okay? Go find your ma, or…” Jack dropped his head and looked down at his muddy toes. It was like getting rid of the bug that bothered him since the boy was nothing but a stumbling block to his life. Jack hugged the doll back in his arms and headed for somewhere else. 

And Abigail was watching it all, memorizing how abashed her son looked, how annoyed John sounded. She believed in John. Her love and faith for him didn’t change even when he ran away because he couldn’t stand the ups and downs of life, or when he uttered wild words full of frigidness to her, and she thought he would change one day. But he didn’t. He never seemed to change. She needed to wake him up, evoke something called conscience and paternal love.

“John, hey!” Abigail strode up to John, grabbed him by the wrist, and he shook her off. “What?”

“Look, John. I’ve seen you talking with Jack.” John rolled his eyes with a grimace. “I know you ain’t that fond of him, but can you at least try to do something? Not pushing him away? He’s  _ your _ son.” The last sentence that Abigail said seemed to provoke John. He stood up from his seat.

“My son, huh? How the hell do you know that?” the altercation was about to start again. And it wasn’t going to be much different from the ones they've had so far.

“Now you don’t even think he’s yours? Please, John!” Abigail raised her voice and John hysterically let down the flaps of the tent, blocking themselves from the prying eyes. But they couldn’t stop the words from leaking out.

Where Jack headed was next to you. You already knew everything but wouldn't imagine what they were arguing about in the tent. Jack tugged at your cloth, looking up. “Ma and Pa are fighting again.”

You bent your knees and stroked his cheek. “Are they, Jack? It’s alright, it’ll be over soon.” and you knew it was a complete lie. Jack didn't seem to believe you either, but he muttered, "Okay," and sat on the ground, playing with the doll. You fiddled with the collar and stared into empty space, trying to keep yourself from getting distracted by their muffled screaming. Their argument felt longer than it actually was, and you finally decided to poke your nose in.

You walked to John’s tent, pushed the flaps aside without looking any of them in the eyes. “Mr. Pearson said the stew is ready.”

John’s furious eyes turned to you, and he soon walked out of the tent, crashing you on the shoulder. Abigail’s breath was trembling.

“You...alright, Abby?” you could see her red eyes when she raised her head, and it was too familiar to think lightly of. You calmed her by holding her quivering shoulder, and the next thing you saw was John's derogatory look, then his back.

“Do it somewhere other than my space if you're gonna talk shit about me. ” it sounded irresponsibly cold. You wondered for a split second if John thought of you as a tail-wagging dog following behind Abigail. And what you thought would be probably right. You took her to a wooded place, the edge of the camp with your fingers clasped with hers, avoiding the eyes.

It didn't take much time before she began to break down and hiccup. She was scarred by the words that are no more than a bark. You didn't try to give her useless advice or ask questions, and instead let her cry her heart out. You held her flushed cheeks guttered with tears in your hands and waited for her crying to die down. Giving someone time to handle their feelings when they’re distressed was the most effective way to calm them down, you always thought.

“I was out of my mind, wasn’t I…” Abigail mumbled after getting a hold of herself, still sniffing and hiccuping a little.

“You wasn’t, Abby, no. You feeling alright now?” you asked in a coaxing voice, and she nodded.

“John, he’s…” When his name came out of her mouth, you thought you'd stop her, but let her speak. But she couldn’t deliver what she wanted to say quite easily. “I just...wish he’d─he’d─”

“I understand, Abigail.” You quickly comforted her for fear she’d start crying again and looked around to see if John was in the camp. He was seen nowhere, at least in your sight. “You wanna stay here, or go to my tent? It’s getting cold ‘round here. Thought we’d head there and...do whatever you want. What do you think?” you suggested, holding her hand and she said with a nod, wiping her eyes. “Take me, yeah.” You grabbed her pinky and headed to the tent.

You sat side by side in the cot. The thick canvas blocked the chilling breeze of the evening, and the tent was slightly cramped, but it felt cozier because of it.

“What do you want to do, Ms. Roberts?”

“You know, the poem… What’s it called, um, the complete poems? Can you read it to me?”

Abigail was illiterate. Either you or she was pretty frustrated about the fact, and you tried to teach her reading, but teaching someone wasn’t so easy, so rather you chose to read her a book.  _ There is another sky, even serene and fair, and there is another sunshine, though it be darkness there;  _ You cleared your throat and start reading. She looked at the poetry as if practicing reading, then leaned slightly on your shoulder and it reminded you of the old days. Long before Jack was born, long before John came to her. Abigail sometimes asked what the word you just read meant, and sometimes smiled. The feeling of being cut off from the world was quite refreshing. You both were absorbed in the ambient a little too much to the point you couldn’t hear the footsteps increasing.

“Am I interrupting you ladies?” Sadie greeted you, and you had to admit that you were surprised to hear her. Abigail raised her head from your shoulder and coughed for no reason. “No, not at all.”

“That’s good. You alright, Abigail? I saw you crying and thought I’d check on you.”.

“I’m okay now. Thank you. Um, why don’t you sit with us? I could really use some company today.” Abigail suggested, you turned the empty chair in Sadie’s direction so that she could sit down, and she took a seat on it with gratitude.

“What was you reading?” asked Sadie, gazing at the book in your hand. “It’s poetry. The one by Emily Dickinson. Ms. Roberts here has a lofty taste, and I hope you know that I’m very honored to be her reader.” a chuckle broke out from the ladies beside you.

Abigail’s eyes were still red, but there was a complete smile on her face now. Sadie didn't seem to be crying anymore either. Yes, everything was getting better. You were forgetting the feeling: making someone laugh who just finished crying. Now that you remember how it feels, you had no choice but to carry along with the atmosphere, to laugh.


	6. "Please, put your head out of the water."

A new morning flowed into the tent, mixed with the smell of thin fog and the forest. It was quite pleasant to wake up slowly, smelling the peculiar scent of the early morning. Even more with the memories of the previous evening. Your original purpose of entering the tent - reading a book to Abigail - soon had gone up in smoke, and you ladies got to know each other for a while, away from the chores and stress outside. Sadie wasn't completely out of her depression yet, but the time she and you spent together was enough to ease the load that weighed upon her mind.

“Alright, ladies. Thanks for getting them thoughts off my mind today.” Sadie got up from the seat with a small smile, stretching her back. You thought you'd ask her to stay longer, just because she got up sooner than you thought but decided to let her go. Abigail said goodbye to her and she stayed still until Sadie was completely gone from her sight, then took your hand.

“Look, thanks for...staying with me today. It really means a lot, darling. I'd love to stay with you, but it's time for Jack to sleep.” instead of nodding to her or responding to her words, you placed your lips on her knuckle for a fleeting moment, and detached. She let out a short giggle and stood up, saying, "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

You poured coffee into the cup as Abigail and you greeted each other. Her eyes looked unusually blue, perhaps because of what happened yesterday. And there was a familiar back behind her. Standing near a cliff, broad shoulders. It's never a good thing to have enemies in the camp, so you tried and had to forgive him, but the aloof words he left behind made your hair stand on end whenever you recalled. You turned your eyes back to Abigail and focused on her.

“How you feeling?”

“Just fine. It’s still morning.” her eyes crinkled as she said it.

You knew it wasn’t good to avoid him at all costs. You knew that the problems between them would have to be solved by them. He wasn't filthy dirt or a worm, and you couldn't just avert him until the end of the world. But she, Abigail, didn't have to face him, at least this morning. She could see him again after the excitement of yesterday evening subsides a little, but this morning there was a little selfishness in you wanting to make her yours entirely.

“So, I’m just asking, Abigail. Why don’t we go out to town today?”

“Huh?” Abigail, who had been nonchalantly caressing the handle of the cup, looked up and asked again.

“Why don’t you and I head to town for a bit? And do whatever you want to do. Buying something, you know, anything you like.”

She seemed taken aback at your suggestion and couldn't readily give an answer. You waited, and after waiting, she mumbled rather uncertainly. “But I ain’t got any money.” You put your hand into the coat pocket and pulled out a bundle of slightly wrinkled bills. It wasn't that much, but it was enough to have a good time in town. Abigail eyed them and questioned. “What about - Hi, Sadie. - What about Jack?”

You tried to say that there must be other women to look after him, but it was Sadie who said the next thing. Pouring coffee into her cup, chuckling. “You don’t gotta worry, Abigail. I can watch him. You deserve some nice break.”

Abigail seemed to be thinking for a moment, then took a sip of coffee and said with a bright smile. “Alright. Let’s finish the coffee and head out.”

“So, what do you want to do, Abby?” you asked, getting on the horse, and her answer came out faster than you thought. “Buying Jack some clothes, and getting some bath. I want to bathe in that hot water.”

“Well, then.” you waited for Abigail to get on the horse and tidy up her skirt, and you set your pace with her and left Horseshoe Overlook.

The morning at Heartlands was refreshing. You, and perhaps Abigail, forgot for a moment how pure and invigorating this place can sometimes be. Abigail's chest went up and down slowly, and she seemed to be trying to seize everything she could see, smell, and feel. She didn't have that much chance to go out all day doing chores and taking care of her son, so it wasn't strange for her to do this. The horse's mane, her hair, and the coat got driven by the spring breeze. As you took a deep breath, the smell of the field and pollen tickled the tender flesh behind your nose.

Everything felt nice. It was as if the world had given you a chance not to be a mess for once. You would normally have never imagined, but at least now you could thank all the little things that existed in the world. Being away from the outlaw camp and its fuss and grief for a while, that's what you two needed. Men glanced at both of you as you went along the road as the sight of two women traveling alone without any folks to protect them wasn’t very usual, but you couldn’t care less.

The end of this little journey was to arrive at Valentine. The livestock village smelled of muddy water and cries of the animals could be heard, all too familiar.

"Where are we going first?" you asked Abigail, looking around.

"Let's buy some clothes first." she led you to stakes in front of the grocery store and hopped off the horse with a small rattle. Before entering the store, she cleaned up her clothes, cleared her throat, opened the door, and asked the man in front of the counter. "I'd like to see some boys' clothes."

"Sure. Take a look at the catalog first, and let me know if you ain't fond of any of them. I can show you what's in the warehouse."

Abigail opened the catalog and quickly passed through it until her eyes reached the page where the boy's clothes were shown. Her fingers lingered on the rough paper, moving back and forth. The pictures of boys dressed neatly and with waxed, slicked-back hair was like pie in the sky.

"How's this?" you pointed at the white sweater with the fingertip, and her eyebrows slightly furrowed.  _ One for 70¢. _

"Bit...fancy for us, ain't it? Let's keep looking." you began to look for something not too expensive, not too flimsy, not too fancy, something suitable for the weather that was increasingly getting warmer. The second hand of the clock went on and on, and the shopkeeper gave two ladies standing in front of him a bitter look.

And Abigail's fingers which were wandering here and there finally pinpointed something. 40¢ each, patternless navy cotton shirt. The man wrapped two shirts in a box with a sigh of relief that this moment of boredom was finally over. With Abigail's goodbye, you left the store and put the box in your saddle.

"A hot bath, then!" she let out a lively chuckle, grabbed your hand and led you to the hotel.

"Hold on!" the laughter from her behavior was pretty contagious that you almost forgot to be careful not to get mud on the bottoms. The puddles under your feet splashed. 

Valentine's typical air became lighter and lighter after you stepped into the hotel and then disappeared. She'd already finished asking for a bath before you could even bring it up, and led you to the end of the hall where the bathroom was located. You decided to wait for her to bathe outside the room and stood against the wall by the door. But that moment broke down a few minutes later when Abigail slightly opened the door and asked you. "You ain't coming in?"

With raven hair down to her chest, with a linen towel barely covering her body. "Huh?" Abigail opened the door a little more as if you were coming in.

You didn't turn her down.

The inside of the bathroom was humid with hot water from the bathtub and the bubbles floating around on it smelled of roses. Abigail's clothes were hung on the hanger behind the curtain and she took off the towel and got into the bathtub while you stood around her awkwardly. She let out a small grunt and a sigh as her body met the water, the thing she was craving for all this time.

"So warm," she mumbled, closing the eyes, fiddling with the bubbles wrapping her body. "Been a long time since I…" then she gazed at you through those half-shut eyes.

"Come on in," she suggested, turning her body to your side. "You don't want to go back smelling like mud, do you?"

You didn't mean to refuse. You were just a little flustered under the weight of the scent of flowers from the heated water and her bare body. Soon the urge to call her name drowned the senses of you, and it seemed like someone was pushing your back with their hands. You didn't have the audacity to refuse anyway.

The clothes felt like feathers as you took them off. Felt sensitive as they brushed past the flushed body. Especially when Abigail was there, watching your every move. She adjusted so that you could sit yourself inside the tub, and soon her body and yours met.

"Kinda small, ain't it?" said Abigail. It was. But considering that this opportunity to be together was given to you, it was a good thing. Her fingers and yours clasped, thumb gently stroking your knuckle. The aroma of roses wafted from her wet neck and hair. A sort of scent that isn't luxurious, but isn't to be looked down upon. Her other fingers found a way to your hair, twirling and twisting it. You stayed like this for a while.

Her hand soon went down to your chest, just an inch next to the breast, following the curves of the body. She grabbed you by the waist and pulled you more towards her, so her breath and yours could touch.

You shouldn't have done this, both of you. Abigail had a husband and a son. She wasn't the one you could share the breath with, the one you could kiss and play the innocent. Everything was a sin. Affection between a woman and another woman, having an affair with a married lady.

But you couldn't and didn't stop her from putting her lips to yours. What you and she did now could no longer be called pureness. And yet you were carried away by the atmosphere, you had no choice but to let her go all the way, telling yourself this is going to be the last time.

But is it?


	7. "So let us love, dear love, like as we ought."

Amoretti LXVIII: Most Glorious Lord of Life”

* * *

_ It ain’t warm anymore. _ Abigail muttered. She floated the water with her red-colored palm, flipped her hand, and poured it back where they were. The commotion that had just been going on had subsided. You've managed to pull your greedy hands off each other's flushed bodies and get your breath together. Returned to Earth from a voyage in space that seemed unlikely to end. Sitting, without words, in the lonely air, feeling the contemplation floating in clear water. A desperate effort to make meaningless noise after failing to adapt to silence wasn’t fortunately found in you or her.

"Shall we get out?" She shook her head at your question and instead came up to you with closed eyes and mouth with the corners of it raised like a smile, twined her arm around yours.

“Not yet. Let’s stay like this for a bit.” Abigail leaned her head against your shoulder after simply saying so. Wet hair touched your skin, ripples came crashing against your thighs. She grabbed your wrist and matched her hand with yours, comparing the sizes of them, as if you were in a trite romance novel after staying so still like that. You let her play around with your hand for a moment, catching the glimpse of the wrinkled skin beneath Abigail’s thin fingers. Proof that you’ve been here for quite a while. The bathroom was now filled with humid air and the bathwater turned tepid, but you didn't want to move a single step. You didn't want to waste your chance of being lazy together, slacking off like diligence is just another word you never learned. And your little lover next to you who just fell into reverie seemed to think so, too. Eyelids trembling from time to time but never moving, just taking pure advantage of this moment.

Her hand which had been settled on top of your hand moved in the waves and found a place on your thigh. You shuddered a little, wondering if she wasn’t satisfied with what you did earlier, but Abigail seemed to want to ignore your little response. Even the other hand went up on your thigh, and she re-seated herself after a little heave. You saw the stretch marks on her lower abdomen and hip, the evidence that she once had carried someone's child, as she raised her upper body. Could see them with clearer eyes than ever since the frenzy that had arisen several minutes ago had died down. Looking at and getting your finger on them, thinking about the baby who’s had grew up in her womb devouring his mother's body, thinking about what the man she chose as the child's father have done, part your mind turned all somber and muddy to just recall what'd happened over those 9 months. Abigail flashed a bashful smile as you traced them with a gentle touch. "Ain't they...ugly?"

Although they certainly did carry a history, the marks themselves weren't something you should think badly of. If anything, those were other evidence that showed she'd successfully made it as an unmarried mother and survived amidst pity and disdain people threw at her. Just showed that woman was steel. "Ugly?" You asked back, shaking your head. "Who even got you thinking like that? They're--Damn, how do I tell you? They ain't ugly, Abby. At all.”

"Really?"

"Really. I mean it." You swore so.

Abigail blinked several times, then let out a light sigh. “Folks never told me about them. Just...I don’t know, I kept thinking they was ugly.”

_ It’s a blessing to be in a family way _ , that’s the sentence she’d heard from other women. She didn't want to indulge in self-pity while rubbing the marks left on her body, but she still thought it’d have been better if she’d been hinted how carrying a child would change a woman's body. She'd thought that those winding scars were embarrassing, ugly, and something she has to cover ever since the birth of Jack. “They are not. Come on, they’re lovely to just look at. Better admit it before I make you repeat after me.”

Abigail chuckled. “Right…” She breathed a sigh of relief at your words, and let your hand be completely wrapped around her waist. “You’re too sweet for me.”

“I am. Too sweet for a woman who thinks she’s flawed.” You looked into her eyes and whispered, believing it was thanks to you that the flush spread on her cheeks.

For sure, love was something to cherish, but you now really were acting like young girls who only lived in the church and saw the sun outside for the first time. But where else would there be another chance for this? It was nothing to care about. It was too early for you to have wisdom teeth, and women who've lived all their lives having their back to the wall didn't have to pretend to be mature even where people couldn't see them. Smiling women were always beautiful.

The hour hand of the pocket watch pointed between the bold Roman numeral and the one next to it. When it’d been pointing the middle of the number, you were hugging each other's flushed bodies in cold bathwater, barely managed to sense the passage of time, stood up from the bathtub and stepped outside of the hotel taking a rain check on the next delicate moment like the one you just had. It seemed like all the entangled thoughts and worries about other people had melted away in that crystal-clear water. Strong sunshine, but not stinging, rather pleasant sunshine fell on your slightly wet hair as you put your feet in the stirrups. That steamy sentiment after the love affair under the guise of bathing, and the warm sunlight seeping through the eyelids formed an eccentric mixture. 

"Auntie! Mama!" Jack, sitting next to Sadie, saw you, and came running with cheers and necklaces made of flowers in his two hands. Abigail bent down and hugged him, Sadie walked over slowly from behind.

“You had a nice time? Took some bath, maybe? Smells nice.” She tilted her head slightly to the side as if she were familiar with the scent coming from you, and said with a light smile.

“Yeah.” You nodded and blurted at the thought of a gift for Jack inside the saddle. “Oh! And we bought some clothes for Jack. Almost forgot about that.”

Sadie approved as you took the box out of the saddle and opened the lid. “Well, ain’t it pretty. I’m sure it’d look good on him.” 

You called Abigail and Jack, and they came over holding each other’s’ hand. Abigail accepted the box and thanked Sadie. “Sadie, thank you. Thank you for looking after the boy." She disappeared into your tent, after seeking permission to use it for a bit. "And honey, can I use your tent for a second?”

The flop of the tent closed and you smiled slightly, imagining Jack dressed up in the gift and showing it off to Abigail with a jaunty look on his face. And Abigail’s satisfaction. You were just fine if this little family could experience happiness, no matter how trivial and simple that would be, even for a short time. A few minutes later, the tent reopened, and Jack ran out neatly dressed and his arms lifted with all his might. Abigail chuckled behind him, eyes shaped like a half-moon. “Cute!” Complimented Sadie, and you had no choice but to second her words. 

“Cute, indeed.”

Abigail pressed Jack’s shoulders down with both of her hands and said, looking into his face. "Now you should thank your aunt, Jack?"

"Thanks for the gift, Auntie!" He exclaimed, showing a few missing teeth and Abigail took off the hands, sensing his obvious urge to go around and play. 

“Don’t let them dirt get on the shirt!” She didn’t forget to raise her voice to warn him. "Don't know who he took after to be so silly like that." Then she let out a sigh, but a mischievous chuckle was mixed in it. Though she did say so, she found his bounciness just amusing, full of piss and vinegar.

“Boy looks great in that shirt,” said Sadie, unwinding her arm.

"He really is." Abigail laughed, then asked Sadie in a slightly subdued voice. "Sadie, so, wasn't he...too much to you? Wasn’t he behaving like a…”

"Not at all, Abigail. He was much polite than the ones I’ve seen. Think it’s the first time I been called Auntie.”

Abigail sighed with relief at her words, after getting out of concern from imagining all the rude things that could’ve happened. "Thank Lord.”

"Don’t you worry about him. Now that you're back, can I go back to what I was doing? Don’t know why, but I can’t stand for long." Sadie asked straightening her back and Abigail nodded. She walked across the camp, picked up a book that had been on the table, and sat under a large tree nearby. You observed her for a brief second and turned your head, and it was Ms. Grimshaw you encountered, glaring at you both as if she were going to blow a hole in your faces with just one glance.

You nudged Abigail’s side. “Ms. Grimshaw at three o’clock.” She took a quick look in that direction and led you to the women's caravan, looking for work to do, after whispering to you, “Can’t get why she can’t just leave us alone.”

The spring breeze brushed past your cheek. Abigail had thought it wasn't that big of a deal to play a few games of domino after hours of work. She’d nudged you in the ribs and offered to kick off the heels for a bit when Ms. Grimshaw wasn’t looking, and you accepted it. Was the suggestion only for Abigail's own satisfaction? You didn't know what she thought, but it seemed so, given the circumstances. It was when she’d won the game five times in a row that your question started to carry assurance. She’d refrained from making any grand gestures to avoid attracting Miss Grimshaw's attention, but the elated smile on her face still remained. But the defeats weren’t something to hate. It was, in fact, quite a lovely experience to go along with the passage of time, to see clouds gradually forming in the cloudless blue sky all beyond her shoulders. Even though it felt timeless, the world was still going by. And the loveliest of all these picturesque things was Abigail sitting in front of you; the woman who’s puffing her chest out like she doesn’t know the meaning of woe.

“See, domino!” A peal of laughter came out of Abigail’s mouth as she put down the last piece of her domino. She tasted the joy of victory again, and it seemed like she couldn’t stop the pure happiness from catching up with her. She tried to cover her mouth with a hand but it didn’t do much, and you could see her teeth.

“You silly!" You said it for nothing, and you had to try all your best to refrain yourself from adding anything corny. You were just sitting there, waiting for that dusted off chuckle to end. Her heaving of the shoulders gradually died down.

“Sorry, sorry!” Abigail reseated herself, trying to stop any other laughter from coming out. “Didn’t know you were so bad at this.” Then she whispered teasingly, admiring you through her half-opened eyes. You made a playful sound with your lips, not noticing the increasing footsteps.

“Is this how you work for our camp?” A thunderous reproach was heard, you looked up and saw Ms. Grimshaw’, cross-armed and jaw clenched. “Fooling around like brats? What are you, fools? Stop messing around and get them works done. Ms. Roberts, help Ms. Jackson wash clothes. And you go help other girls.” She pointed her finger at you, giving commands in an enraged voice. “Get up and go! Can’t leave you girls alone for a bit. You’re all lucky things got changed, you’d’ve gotten whipped in my old days.” 

Quickening the steps and heading towards the women’s caravan, you saw Abigail shooting a look of comprehension. You would’ve exchanged a few words if Ms. Grimshaw hadn’t been standing behind you, watching. She wasn’t a fool, anyway.

Mary-Beth dropped a basket full of clothes between you and her, glanced at you. “Hey. Ms. Grimshaw’s got a temper lately, ain’t she?” You gave a small nod. She didn't bring up any more words, and it was perfect. Since Ms. Grimshaw had kicked you out to do your job, you wanted to finish what was entrusted to you in your seat without being disturbed. You'd thought about pricking your finger with a needle, show Ms. Grimshaw bloody skin and pretend you can't work today, but realized right away that she wasn't the person you could easily outmaneuver and just decided to do your best in what you were told to do.

Who would have expected the life of an outlaw to be this bleak? When a chicken cries in the early morning, you get up from your seat appreciating that the day has passed without trouble, you don't get to have a proper meal and do chores such as sewing or washing men's clothes, and then you fall asleep when the sun goes down and the night comes. There was no guarantee that the cycle of good citizens living a normal life was different from that, but at least it was certainly different from the fantasy you’d expected of the lawless camp teeming with anti-governmentists and outcasts. Imagination doesn’t live up to reality as expected, you thought.

So time went by. Mary-Beth sighed loudly after stabbing her finger several times with a needle. You tried not to be disturbed by the temperature of the air that was getting cold due to the declining day and volatile gray clouds, straightening the back. “You don’t got a thimble, right?” 

Mary-Beth replied weakly. “No.”

“Want to borrow one? Think Abigail has it.” Ms. Grimshaw was bent on something opposite of where you were, and by now you could talk a little bit with Abigail. You didn’t know what you were going to even talk about, but just hearing her voice, you thought you could get rid of the boredom.

“Maybe...yeah, would be better than nothing.”

Abigail sighed, hung out the laundry in the clothesline, turned around, and found you walking towards her. “Hon?”

“You got a thimble? Mary-Beth needs one.” She listened to your words, searched through the box lying next to the tent, and put the thimble in your hand. “Thanks. I’ll tell her to give it back. And you know, um…” Abigail came close to you, listening. “You still got works to do?”

“Yeah. Reckon I’m gonna be struggling with all them clothes this evening. See, that woman,” Abigail glared at Ms. Grimshaw across the camp. “she won’t stop meddling. Talking about-- messing with everything I work on.”

“Can’t make time, can you?”

“I can’t.”

And while you were exchanging sighs and complaints, Pearson shouted. “Dinner’s ready, folks! Come and eat!” You both took a look at him, and at the steam rising from the pot. That made you grab your stomach, and realize that you've never had a proper meal since this morning.

“Want to go eat some first? Think I got to do the rest of the works.”

“You can do them after eating dinner, you know?”

“I know that, but--”

“I’m not leaving you alone here. Let’s go, lady.”

The stew on the plate tasted oddly delicious. It was a mystery whether it had anything to do with your special right to hog the meat and vegetables as you being the first person to receive the food, but the stew was savory enough, even though it wasn’t particularly different from what you ate yesterday and what you’ll eat tomorrow. The problem was that the more you ate the stew, the more familiar and mundane it tasted, but you decided not to care about it since you learned not to complain about food when you were sitting at an outlaw camp with over twenty people. You succeeded in almost finishing your meal sitting at a table without people and that’s what was important now.

"Mr. Pearson's cooking always tastes the same," you intoned.

"Can't say anything about that.”

Abigail, who put the last piece of meat into her mouth, suddenly looked up and held her palm in the air. A small grain of water formed on her finger, and you felt something cold on your cheek. You looked around and the others were checking out what’d just touched their skin, like her. The sky roared uneasily, and gray rain clouds began to gather in the sky. If you stayed like this, it was obvious you'd all get drenched to the bones. Those who’d finished their meal first drew canopy of the open tents, and people went in search of shelter from the rain as they watched the bonfire, which had been burning vigorously burn down to embers, slowly. This abrupt attack of rain seemed like a shower, but God only knew what it truly was. You led Abigail to your tent, with Jack holding her hand. Finally, there was time to be together without working, and you weren’t going to waste that time leaving them outside.

The late evening began with a cloudy gray sky and a stream of torturing rain beating against canvas cloth. All the chores at the camp were delayed and stopped and people have sheltered themselves, hoping that the rain would stop or continue. You’d be called the latter. The bustling conversations of the beginning of when you and Abigail sat here were long gone now, but the touches masquerading as a mistake, and the warmth of each other's skin was still there. Fiddling with the doll that Jack had left behind in his sleep on your bed, you fell gently into silence. Abigail buried her cheek to your neck with fingers intertwined with yours. You could feel her nodding off, then completely falling into sleep as if she regarded the sound of the rain as a lullaby. The heavy rain that had been strong enough to bit into the earth had subsided and changed from fine rain to drizzle. As it got dark, the rain, which seemed likely to go on for life, began to stop. The heaven closed, and that meant Abigail and Jack had to finish their dwelling. Abigail thought so, at the very least.

“Gotta go back to where we was, hm?” Abigail mumbled, watching Jack sleep.

“You can stay here?”

“Nah. Don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. This place ain’t big enough for all of us.”

“Yeah, well...Imagine if we get to have a bigger one.” You let it slip. “Imagine, a tent big enough to have us all. Then...” You sounded her out, hinting at the future that could perhaps come.

Abigail turned to you with her eyes wide open. “You mean--Are you asking we live together?”

“If only Dutch allow that.”

“I…” She lowered her gaze, tucking the loose hair behind her ear. “I’d love to, but--Don’t you think folks are gonna talk?” 

All the plans and hopes between you and Abigail turned all into empty dreams when ‘people’ were mentioned. You thought what’d be so strange about two women and her son to live under one tent, but it seemed that you accidentally overlooked the fact that it might seem ‘different’ and ‘odd’ enough for people here who wouldn’t have seen such a sight in their lifetime. They may not, but what if they do?

“Maybe, uh, but, are people that important?” You blew your own horn, but your face, the tone of your voice, all of it screamed  _ insecurity _ . Sure, people's eyes might not matter to you, but Abigail was in a completely different situation. You were all living in the sin anyway and that got you wondered what the big deal was, but you couldn’t let Abigail who had a man and a son be suspected by the people. No matter how unaccustomed people were to women like you, that situation was bound to be suspicious. Something that’s out of line, questionable. And the fact that you two have to work harder to feed three people-- “...Or maybe I ain’t thinking straight.”

“It’s alright.” Abigail held your hand, voice all soft and faint. She said while waking Jack up, “I’m gonna get back to our place and catch some sleep. Thanks for having us, sweetheart.”

The night was freezing as the rain had completely coated the breeze and made it chilly enough to make people shiver. You reminded yourself that the disheartner that had happened several minutes before shouldn’t ruin you. But what you said in anticipation came back to you as a wake-up call for reality.

Javier and his guitar were nowhere to be seen, and most of the people were retiring to their beds to finish the day early, only a few mooning about. You didn't mean to go against the flow of this camp, you were about to drink the cold coffee and get lost to bed. Nothing was more miserable than dwelling on the unpleasant memories. Too bad. It’d have been nice if you were born without a stain.

The remaining coffee in the kettle was cold as you expected. The cheap taste got even worse, and you shivered a little standing on the spot, tightly holding the cup with both hands, wondering if the drink would actually get you to sleep. And the gust didn’t care about you.

You passed the last sip back of your neck and put the cup in the washing-up bowl, headed for your tent. You tried to.

“Hey.” And your first name. You heard it, the name called out in a voice, too courteously. A hoarse voice that seemed as to submerge the spine with something inky seeped through the ears. “Come over here.” His hand held a whiskey bottle. The calloused fingers groped at the bottleneck, fondling. The yellow lamplight illuminated the scars. “Come on, we can have a little talk.”

Ignoring him and going straight to the tent would’ve been a smart idea. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t when you were afraid of what’d happen after you turned down his  _ invitation _ . You bit the inside of your cheek, ran your feet to where John was sitting.

“Is Abigail asleep?” He asked, voice mushy and tender. He did look like a besotted drunkard. Hooded eyes holding illusive affection and infatuation, all directed at the wrong person. If that look told you anything, the terrible thing was you now saw the man she once fell in love with at the age of seventeen. So appalling.

“She is.” You answered. His free hand grabbed you your wrist, and you stayed like that for a second. You did try to turn back. And he didn’t seem to sense your uncomfortableness.

Did you finally realize?

You, this whole gang, were only a pile of garbage and litters, and no one here sought morality or had a desire for chastity. You fully understood it, and you wouldn’t force your very personal view on others. But there was a thing called conscience. You thought he'd keep that notion in his head, even if he was an outlaw and a gunslinger. Maybe you were the only one here who was stupid.

John tugged at your arm and sat you on top of his lap. His voice made out of pure thirst and alcohol seemed to seep through the crevices of your skin. “Folks won’t see us now.”

You stared blankly into the void for a fleeting moment, feeling the hand stroking your lower tummy, feeling the rough, intoxicated breathing touching the side of your neck. He smelled of rain. He smelled of dust. He smelled of cheap whiskey. He smelled like appetence. He smelled like blood.

He smelled like men.

_ John, stop. _ You wavered. The thighs beneath yours spread out, the hand made it down to the hip.  _ John. _

"Hmm?"

“Get off!” You shook him off and stood up. He sprawled out, nearly failing at keeping his balance. How did you get yourself in this sordid, hideous situation? Would you like to beg the answer out of him?

He stared at you, then burst into laughter. “Oh, damn. Damn!”

You hastened your shaky legs, walked fast without looking back, and reached your tent. And pulled down the flap. And sat down on the bed. A real punch in the gut. He punched you in the gut.

You swallowed the tears back and thought of the warmth that touched your neck,  _ I don’t want to be loved by the likes of you _ \-- Would there ever be a day he returns to Abigail, would there ever come a day he realizes what he’d been missing out so far? The world  _ stop _ lingered inside the mouth like a residue. And it'd nestle down like a rotten tooth and make you suffer whenever you dare to forget about it. Headache swarmed you over. You missed the hot water. You missed melting in the water.


End file.
